


Our Own Eternity

by jetlagged_chinchilla



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Carnival AU, Heavy Angst, Insomnia, Love Story, M/M, POV Rick, Post-Whisperers, Sad Rick Grimes, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Tearjerker, Young Rick, old Rick, pill addiction, young negan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetlagged_chinchilla/pseuds/jetlagged_chinchilla
Summary: When Rick and Negan’s secret relationship ends tragically, it takes a mental and physical toll on Rick. A bottle of mysterious pills could be the cure for Rick’s ills (and maybe a gateway to another world). He's somehow able to reunite with Negan at a strange carnival where they're both young and carefree. It could just be a dream, but when the “dream” becomes preferable to reality, Rick must navigate through life in a constant state of loss and longing.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Negan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for myself a while back and didn’t intend to ever post it. I didn't think it had much broad appeal. But I recently re-read it and really enjoyed it, and I always thought that if one other person enjoys it too, then a fic is worth posting.

It started with a touch.

After the Whisperers War - the mourning, the rebuilding - after it all, there was finally peace. Or some semblance of peace, as much as could be expected in this world.

With time, things returned to a lull. Life went on.

Rick supposed he should have been grateful, and he was. His community was intact, his people were safe. His circle of friends and family had made it through to the other side.

He was grateful.

But things had changed. His once close-knit ties were no longer so close. There had been loud disagreements and harsh words exchanged during the tense moments when dealing with the Whisperers. Doubts of his leadership. Doubts of friendships.

Rick had hoped after the dust had settled, they could all come together again and be the family they once were. But even after the apologies and hugs, the affirming words and promises, it was never really the same. Daryl spent more time at the Hilltop than ever before. Michonne had business at Oceanside, traveling there quite frequently. Even those who remained in Alexandria were too immersed with their own lives to come around to say hello.

Life went on.

And so it may have seemed rather ironic, that as Rick’s friends drifted from him, someone else had drifted towards him.

Negan had moved away from Alexandria after the war, but not too far. Rick would go to see him at his little cabin a few miles south, to drop off supplies, inquire about Negan’s well-being. It was the least he could do.

They would stand by the doorway and chat. About everything and nothing. Just wasting time.

One day, Rick brought over something unexpected.

“A horse?” Negan exclaimed. “For me?”

Rick smiled as Negan petted the young mare on the nose. “For you to borrow,” Rick explained, “for the summer. Once it gets cold, bring her back to our stables.”

“Shit, Rick. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just come to visit sometime,” Rick said.

And so Negan did.

Rick would be called out to the gates of Alexandria, to see Negan waiting on the other side, sitting atop of Dottie. Rick would smile and wave him in, sliding open the entrance as horse and rider clopped their way inside.

Rick would always prepare a care package for Negan to take back with him - food or clothing, soap and blankets.

“You don’t have to, Rick” Negan said the first time around. “I get by alright. I don’t have to be your charity case.”

“It’s fine. Just take them,” Rick had replied.

Negan would return the following week, and the week after that.

Rick found himself hurrying when called to the gates, to see if there was a man on a honey-brown horse on the other side.

Negan was a talker, but he also listened. Rick would talk about the happenings in the community, the progress and setbacks. His plans and ideas. His stress and worries.

And Negan would always have something to say about it, pitching in his shiny two cents. Rick appreciated it, how Negan provided a different perspective, how he always told the blunt honest truth in his typical colorful styles.

And Negan could understand. Being a former leader himself, he could relate to the things Rick dealt with on a daily basis. It was easy talking to Negan. He never judged, never made Rick feel bad about the decisions he’d made.

Negan became Rick’s sounding board, offering suggestions and imparting his own brand of wisdom, something Rick appreciated, even if he didn’t end up taking the advice. It was nice to have someone to talk to, freely and without concern.

Negan came to visit more frequently, every few days or so. He’d stay for a few hours at a time, and Rick took to hosting his guest, making sure his schedule was clear at a certain time of day just in case his visitor should drop by.

Sipping vintage scotch on the back porch seemed a superb idea when Rick suggested it.

It started with a touch.

It was quiet except for the slight creaking of the wood as they shifted their weight to lean towards the other, to place a ginger kiss on the other’s lips.

Things ignited quickly, flashes popping like a string of firecrackers that only required the smallest of sparks to set off.

It felt good, Rick thought, yet unexpected, to bring someone into his bed at this juncture of his life. He never thought he’d be able to sustain another relationship, not with all the responsibilities that weighed on his shoulders of running a community while raising a daughter.

But this was different. What he had with Negan was easy and uncomplicated. They had no real future together in the conventional sense.

It was an outlet, a release, a distraction from a constant, demanding world. Rick knew it, and he was sure Negan knew it too.

They kept themselves a secret from the rest of the community. No one would, or would be willing to, understand what they were. It was nobody’s business anyway. And Rick would rather have it that way.

And so months passed.

Negan continued his visits, never staying too long, never wearing out his welcome. And each time he left, he would give Rick a kiss and a satiated smile before exiting out the front door. And Rick, with a warm flush, would smile back and nod as if to say, ‘until next time.’

Then one day, everything came to an end.

It hadn’t been ten minutes since Negan left Rick’s house when someone came banging on Rick’s door, yelling for Rick’s attention.

Rick had rushed outside, his heart lodged in his throat, airways squeezing tight, fearing of what was to be revealed. As he ran down the pathway that led to the gates, he glimpsed a body lying motionless on the ground.

Negan.

A few onlookers had come to observe and Rick pushed them aside, kneeling down to confirm what he already knew was true. Negan was dead, a seeping trickle of blood pooling from under his head. He had been shot.

Negan’s eyes were closed as Rick reached for his neck, checking for the pulse that wasn’t there, the skin still warm to the touch. Rick glared up into the gathering crowd and yelled, enraged. _“Who did this?”_

“It was Edgar,” a man answered. “We captured him before he was able to run off.”

Rick was shaking, the hand still clasped on Negan’s neck trembling uncontrollably. He stood, hands at his sides squeezing into fists in an attempt to steady them.

The moments after were a blur. Rick had shouted instructions, dispersed the crowd. He had to take control of the situation. He had to be the leader now.

A few of the men helped move the body. Rick didn’t dare look as they carried Negan away.

* * *

In the aftermath, Rick ran through the motions – speaking to witnesses, calming a nervous populace, giving reassurances that they were safe, that the killer had been caught. He did it all with a kind of numbness that didn’t allow himself to feel, to internalize what had happened.

Hours later, Rick descended the steps to the jail, where the killer was held.

An aging man in his late sixties, face gaunt and hollow, Negan’s killer sat on the floor of the empty cell, unemotional, his back propped against the back wall.

Rick faced him from behind the flat iron bars, cold and hard. There was only one question to ask. “Why?”

The man named Edgar looked at Rick, his expression a hateful portrait, and replied in a ragged, scathing voice. “He deserved it. My son is dead because of him.”

Edgar’s son was one of the casualties of the Savior War, nearly a decade ago.

So it was revenge. Worthless, petty revenge.

“Your son knew full well what he was going into when he volunteered to fight,” Rick argued, “he knew the risks. He and many others. That’s no justification for what you did.”

“ _You_ were supposed to kill that fucker Negan,” the old man spewed. “I kept waiting for you to do it, for years and years, but you never did. _‘Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m going to kill you.’_ Isn’t that how the story went,” he scoffed, “the mighty Rick Grimes spitting defiance in that sonofabitch’s face? But turns out you’re just a filthy, chickenshit liar. So I had to kill him myself.”

A rage erupted from inside Rick’s gut, threatening to explode. He could have screamed an obscenity-filled tirade against this man, to hammer him on how ignorant and stupid he was, but there was no point to it. Even if he went in there and beat this old man to death, it wouldn’t give him any satisfaction.

There was nothing Rick could do or say that would bring Negan back.

He didn’t want to spend one more second looking at this man’s putrid, withered face.

“You’re going to stay down here until you die with your demons. Have fun,” Rick spat, slamming the door on his way out.

* * *

When the day crawled to a close, Rick went home and washed his face with water, his limbs moving slow and heavy like creaky old gears. The mirror above the sink didn’t show a man he recognized.

And only when he laid in bed in the silent pitch darkness, alone, did Rick allow the tears to flow. He sobbed, hard and choking, the pillow beneath his face soaking with spilled emotion.

Rick didn’t sleep at all that night.

Before the sun broke, Rick was already outside in the graveyard, digging a plot with a rusted shovel he had used here many times. Negan’s body laid nearby, wrapped in a thin white sheet, waiting for his final descent into the earth.

Rick dug the grave, sweat pearling his brow. He was acting in opposition to some of the townspeople. Some didn’t want Negan buried in Alexandria next to their own fallen. Negan wasn’t one of them, they said, and that his body should be burned instead. Even after all the help Negan provided with the Whisperers, some never forgave the past.

But Rick didn’t care what some others thought.

“Dad?” a voice called and Rick turned around. His twelve-year old daughter stood there, hastily dressed in an oversized coat, the fog of sleep still clouding her large almond eyes. She wore the sheriff’s deputy hat that Carl had given her, Rick‘s own hat that he had given to Carl.

“Judith,” he responded softly, “what, - what are you doing here?”

“I want to help,” she said, holding a shovel of her own. “You’re out here all alone.”

Rick paused, breathing heavy from the labor, peering down at the half-dug grave. He looked back at her and nodded, grateful.

Together they laid Negan to rest, patting the dirt back in place as the dawn approached. Rick found a stone and placed it on top of the plot. It looked plain, the grave – too plain for a man like Negan – but it was all he could do.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Judith said as they stood side by side, her tone mature beyond her years. “I know you two became friends.” She took her father’s hand in hers. “I liked him,” she said, “and I’ll miss him.”

Rick swallowed a lump as they gripped hands. Judith would be the only one who offered him any condolences. She didn’t know the full extent of his and Negan’s relationship and it would stay that way.

There would be no memorial for Negan, no eulogy, no gathering of mourners to grieve his passing. It felt wrong to Rick. Negan deserved something better, he thought, but this simple burial would have to be enough.

Rick took one last look at the grave. _“I’m sorry,”_ he mouthed silently as his vision blurred with tears.

There was nothing else to say.

* * *

Life went on.

Rick worked, he gardened, he parented. He dealt with the nuisances and problems of the community as he always did.

But he didn’t sleep.

At night the tears would come, hot and stinging his eyes raw. He’d lie awake, staring up at a blank ceiling, recent memories of Negan invading his mind. It was still so surreal that Negan was gone, after all that he had survived and overcome, only to the brought down by one of Rick’s own people. The guilt and remorse weighed on him like a boulder on his chest.

He could imagine Negan’s honey-sweet voice, the warmth of his body next to Rick’s own. Could imagine Negan’s breath on his skin and the glint in those hazel eyes.

Rick would toss and turn, rolling onto his sides and over on his back, all night long until the sun leaked through the curtains.

People noticed his tired slouch, his sunken eyes, the extra drawl in his words. Rick waved off their concerns – maybe he had caught a bug, he had a lot on his mind, he’d been working longer hours.

His daughter noticed too. Judith would bring him tea and herbs to help with sleep, a bouquet of lavender to place by his bedside, softer pillows and blankets. Rick accepted them all thankfully, but no amount of small comforts could fill the hole in his heart.

And so the sleepless nights continued.

He had trouble focusing. His mind blanked in the middle of conversations. He couldn’t think clearly or make quick decisions.

These weren’t the qualities of a capable leader.

It was evident that he needed help. Rick took a trip to the infirmary, hoping the doctor could cure his ills.

But all the doctor suggested were home remedies of herbs and oils.

“I’ve already tried those,” Rick said, shaking his head. “Nothing is working. Is there anything else, anything at all that you have, that might help? Please, I’m desperate.”

The doctor regarded Rick with sympathy, nodded in understanding. He looked torn, hesitating to speak his next words.

“I might have something,” the doctor revealed, opening a drawer. Reaching in, he procured a medicine bottle. “But I don’t think I should be prescribing this.”

Rick eyed the container in the doctor’s hand, opaque and unlabeled. “What is it?”

“A few months ago you sent out a team to find medical supplies,” the doctor started. “They found a pharmaceutical lab that used to research and develop new drugs. This was one of the items they brought back.

“I don’t know much about it,” the doctor continued, “but according to the notes that came with it, it’s a treatment for severe insomnia. It was in the testing phases, but there aren’t any notes about the results of those tests.”

Rick nodded at this new information. “Okay,” he said, “that’s fine. I’ll try it.”

“I don’t know what side effects there could be,” the doctor warned, “so you need to be careful. I would start with half a pill and see what happens. If you experience any side effects, stop taking them immediately and let me know.”

“Thank you,” Rick breathed, “I, I really appreciate it.”

That night as Rick sat on the edge of his bed, he looked at a white, oblong pill in the palm of his hand. Tonight he might actually get some sleep, he thought. And although he had been instructed to take only half a pill, the doctor’s precautions quickly faded to the back of Rick’s mind. He needed sleep and he needed it now.

Rick knocked the pill back with a gulp of water. Almost relieved, he laid down in the sheets, pulled the covers over himself. The dried lavender on the nightstand still gave off a sweet, mild scent.

Again, the grief came, his mind recreating the image of the deceased, the same set of images over and over each night. And as they played out like a film, Rick shut his eyes, letting the tears escape.

* * *

The first thing Rick noticed was that he was outdoors. The second thing, that it was nighttime. His eyes were open. He was sitting upright in an unfamiliar setting. There was the feeling of movement, as if he were being lifted.

For a split second, fear filled him. Where was he?

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a voice beside him said.

_That voice._

Rick whipped his head to the side, seeing a man sitting next to him. Rick was stunned.

The man looked remarkably like Negan, but different. Younger – mid to late twenties. Clean-shaven. But with the same eyes, the same smile, full dark hair. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Negan?” Rick whispered, the sound barely a squeak.

“That’s right, Rick darling,” the man responded with glee. The voice matched. It _was_ Negan.

“What…but you, how-“ he stammered back, his mind a jumble, “you…you look so young.”

“Shit, you should take a look at yourself!” Negan replied. “You’re one scrumptious lookin’ spring chicken.”

Rick placed a hand on his own face, felt the soft smoothness of his cheek and jaw. Gone was the scruffy gray beard that he hadn’t maintained for the past week. Glancing at his hands, Rick saw that they were indeed the hands of a young man, free of all the blemish and scars from years of rigor and injury.

He looked at Negan confused. “Where are we?”

Negan smiled, big and toothy. “Look around you, Rick. What do you see?”

Rick looked around. They were sitting in some kind of cart, and the cart was moving, escalating them into the open night sky. The sky was filled with a billion stars, tiny flecks of light twinkling with a large, full moon looming among them. When he looked over the edge of the cart, he could see now, the grounds of an amusement park or a fair, the tops of tents and canopies all lit up with strings of colored lights, rides and game stalls. He could hear faint music coming from the grounds below.

The cart rocked back and forth slightly as it reached an apex and started a slow descent. It was clear to Rick now. They were on a Ferris wheel.

“But what is this place?” Rick asked. “And you, how-“

“Hey, it’s okay,” Negan said softly. “You’re safe here, this is a good place.” His hand reached for Rick’s and clasped them together.

At the touch, Rick was amazed at how warm Negan’s hand was, the firmness of his grip. At once, Rick felt whole, heart beating harder from holding Negan’s hand again after so many sleepless nights of wishing for it. He squeezed back, afraid of letting go. It felt vivid and so real, unlike in any other dreams he’d had. But surely, this had to be a dream.

It had to be a dream.

The cart came to a stop at the bottom of the Ferris wheel. Climbing out, Rick set foot on solid ground into what was a new world as he looked around in wonder.

“Where are we?” Rick asked again, looking to Negan amidst a flashy background.

“Well, it’s a carnival, of course!” Negan beamed.

“I know, but how is this here? How did we get here?” Rick questioned. “Is this…a dream?”

Negan didn’t answer right away, looking unsure of what to say. “It’s not a dream,” he finally stated. “As to your other questions, you know, I’m not really sure myself. All I know is, I died and ended up here.”

At the mention of his death, Rick felt the guilt rise anew. “Negan, I’m- I’m so sorry,” he blurted. “I never wanted that to happen, I didn’t want – I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-” he repeated, words pouring out that he couldn’t say aloud before, apologies that sat trapped inside him. Tears started to well up as he tried to choke out the words.

“Hey, hey, Rick, it’s fine. It’s fine,” Negan hushed. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I should’ve known,” Rick said, “that man… I should’ve known something would happen, that it was too dangerous for you to be there. I wasn’t thinking…”

“Rick, listen. Don’t spend one more second blaming yourself, okay? I knew some of your people still had it out for me. I knew the risks of going back there, but I still did it.”

“But you did it…for me,” Rick stated.

“Yeah,” Negan agreed, “I did it for you, and it was worth it.” He smiled a little smile. “It’s alright. I’m not bummed about being dead. Now turn that frown upside down, Ricky babe, and let me show around this place. It’s awesome!”

Rick was still confused as Negan led him through the carnival grounds. He had so many questions. He didn’t know if any of this was real or not. But Negan was as happy as a kid in a candy store and when he took Rick by the hand, Rick felt that spark, a warm current running up his arm, spreading throughout his body.

Rick now realized it was just the two of them there. There were no others around, no other patrons of this strange place, no workers or security guards. Yet all the rides and booths were up and running in full swing, lights dancing and the music from the carrousel playing on a never-ending loop.

“Where is everyone?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Negan. “It’s always been just me here, until you showed up.”

“Just you? Then who runs this place?”

“This place runs itself,” Negan explained. “It’s like freakin’ voodoo magic. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

They came upon the rollercoaster ride, devoid of any ride operator or personnel. Rick watched as an empty train of cars moved along the tracks, returning from its voyage, coming to a stop at the end as if to drop off and pick up the next batch of thrillseekers.

“You can ride as many times as you want,” Negan said, “you just sit your butt down, strap yourself in, and off it goes!”

Rick looked around in amazement as they continued on. The place was massive, nearly overwhelming his senses. The sights were bright and pulsating, the sounds of the rollercoaster roaring overhead reverberating in his ears. He was struck by just how vivid and _alive_ everything felt, like the entire place was a living, breathing entity.

“Hey, you feel like eating?” Negan asked, headed towards the food stands. “You gotta check this shit out, it’ll blow your mind.”

They entered the concession area, and Negan wasn’t kidding. The area was huge. There must have been a hundred different food stands lined up side by side, each offering its own unique confection. Peanuts and caramel corn, cakes and donuts. Hot dogs and smoked turkey legs, pastrami sandwiches and French fries. The smells of deliciousness, fresh, sizzling and hot, dominated the air.

There were no workers here either, no one cooking or grilling or baking.

“The food just replenishes itself,” Negan claimed, looking at Rick’s bewildered expression. They walked over to a stand where various deep-fried treats sat on the counter in individual take-away baskets. Fried chicken wings, hush puppies, corn dogs and much more, all looking perfectly golden and crisp like they came straight out of the fryer. “Here, try one of these,” Negan suggested, handing Rick a paper basket of fried chicken bites.

Rick was hit by a burst of flavors as he took his first bite, he couldn’t believe how good it was. It was probably the best chicken he had ever eaten. “Wow, this is _really_ good,” he exclaimed.

“And the best part is,” Negan shared, “you can eat as much as you want, whatever you want, and it all keeps coming back.” When Rick looked back at the counter, he saw that Negan was right. The container of chicken he had just eaten was replaced by a new one, as if by magic.

“And…,” continued Negan, “it doesn’t matter how much you stuff your face, you won’t get fat. You won’t get sick with a tummy ache and you don’t need the bathroom anymore. Yeah, no more wasting time shitting and pissing. It’s all the joys of eating and none of the consequences.”

“Wait…really?”

“Yeah,” Negan smirked, “told ya this place is awesome. And it’s like you’re fucking invincible here. You could stick your hand in the deep-fryer or stub your toe on that lamppost and nothing would happen, there’s no pain. You don’t ever get tired and you don’t need to sleep. Damn, if I knew the afterlife would be like this maybe I would’ve kicked the bucket a long time ago.”

A look crossed Rick’s face. “Is that what this place is? The afterlife?”

“Well, I guess…it’s _my_ afterlife, at least,” Negan said.

“But why is it a carnival? Isn’t that kind of…weird?” Rick questioned.

Negan sort of shrugged. “I guess it is weird,” he admitted, glancing around. “When I was a kid, my mother would bring me to one of these things. I fucking loved these places. I’d spend all day riding the rides, gorging on ice cream and cotton candy. Then at the end of the day when it was time to leave, I told my mother that I didn’t want to go home, that I wanted to stay and live there forever. So maybe that’s why I’m here. Eight-year old me finally got his wish.”

“But it’s only you here,” Rick pointed out. “I mean, shouldn’t you get to be with the people you cared about who are also dead?”

Negan fell silent for moment, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know, Rick. I’m not really sure how any of this works. I’m still trying to figure it out. But hey, I ain’t complaining. I can imagine a much, much worse place to be, considering some of the shit I’ve done. So to be here, this is fuckin’ paradise for me.”

“I keep wondering if I’m dreaming,” Rick pondered, “that maybe this place is all in my head, that maybe you’re in my head. But if it’s real, then how did I get here? It doesn’t make sense.” Rick floundered, shaking his head, not able to put together the pieces. “I hated the carnival when I was a kid,” he added. “My parents took me and my brother to one once. I was miserable the whole time. The crowds, the long lines, the heat. My feet were killing me by the end. It wasn’t fun at all.”

“Well, you won’t have any of those problems here,” Negan said. “No crowds, no lines. And no sun means no heat ‘cause it’s always nighttime. And I don’t know how you got here, but _you’re here_.” He reached for Rick’s hand and grasped it, flashed a boyish grin. “So come on, Rick, let’s not worry about it and just have a good time!”

The way Negan looked, so carefree and full of excitement, it made Rick’s concerns melt away as he returned a smile. Whatever this place was, whether he was dreaming or not, it didn’t matter.

He was with Negan.

So hand in hand they ran off into the fairgrounds, like unsupervised children discovering a magical place.

They rode the rollercoaster, drove the bumper cars, slid down the giant slide. Even rides for smaller kids like the tea cup and the carrousel were fun and exhilarating.

They played all the booth games, shot the moving duck targets, popped balloons with darts. All the prizes were free for the taking, and the games reset themselves as if by an invisible operator.

The food was delicious and never-ending. Hot foods stayed hot and cold stayed cold. Popcorn never staled and ice cream never melted.

Negan was right, they never got tired here. They could run for miles and not be short of breath. Their stomachs never got full no matter how much they consumed, yet there was never a feeling of thirst or hunger.

Sitting on a bench sharing a banana split, Rick wondered how long he had been there. It felt like hours had passed but there were no clocks here or anything that told time.

He could see, looking out past the treetops, that the sky was getting lighter.

“I thought you said it was always night here,” Rick asked.

“It is,” Negan said, gazing at the graying sky. “That’s never happened before.”

“Maybe the same is happening at home,” Rick mused, worried. “Daylight is coming, and I’ll be waking up soon.” He looked at Negan, brows knitting together on his soft, young face. “But I don’t want to wake up. I’d rather stay here, with you.”

Rick’s distress grew as the sky turned shades of orange. Negan placed a hand over Rick’s in an attempt to comfort, the empty ice cream container falling to the ground. “Maybe you’ll wake up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come back,” Negan said. “Maybe you’ll find your way back here, and we can do this all over again. Hey, no matter what happens, we had fun today, right?”

Rick nodded, but he could already feel himself fading, being pulled out of this world. He leaned in closer to Negan, to grasp on so Negan could anchor him in place.

They kissed, drawing in even closer. It felt so vividly real, Negan’s mouth was warm and sweet and was everything Rick could wish for.

When the kiss ended, Rick laid his head against Negan’s shoulder and they sat still, holding each other for however much longer they had.

When Rick opened his eyes, they were wet. He was laying on his bed. Sunlight spilled past the closed curtains, lightening the bedroom as Rick breathed in the scent of dried lavender.

* * *

The day moved slowly as Rick did his work and kept his responsibilities. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the carnival and about Negan. What he experienced the night before seemed more than a dream. It had felt so real, so vivid, he couldn’t explain it to himself.

In fact, that dream had felt more real than the actual, real world.

Here, everywhere he looked, colors seemed dull and flat. Food and drink tasted bland. He felt weak and tired, in contrast to how full of energy and life he was in the carnival world.

He missed Negan. He missed Negan more now than ever since his death, Rick’s heart bleeding at the memory of him at that carnival, the glow off his skin under the festive lights, his easy smile and the glittery spark in those hazel eyes.

If Rick thought hard enough, he could still feel the imprint of Negan’s firm grip in his hand, could still feel the tingling on his lips after the kiss they shared.

That night as Rick slipped into bed, his eye caught the medicine bottle that sat on the nightstand. The mystery pills had allowed him to sleep, so he knew they were effective. Rick wondered though, if there was something more to them.

He pried open the bottle and placed a pill in his palm. He swallowed it without water, and as he laid his head down on the pillow, he hoped to dream.


	2. Chapter 2

After taking a pill for the second night, he didn’t remember falling asleep. He had no recollection of how he got there, but there he was again.

Rick looked at the stall in front of him. A game booth of bowling pins set up in rows. Colorful plastic rings lay scattered on the counter, waiting for someone to toss them. Stuffed animals of varying sizes hung off the walls, their beady, synthetic eyes searching for the next potential winner.

Rick’s heart leapt as he realized he was back. He recognized this booth – every detail was exactly the same as he remembered from the night before, right down to the scuff marks on the walls.

He left to find Negan, the sole occupant of this world, scanning the carnival grounds. It didn’t take long to find him.

Rick ran up to Negan, greeting each other with big smiles as they rushed into an embrace. “Well, that didn’t take long,” Negan observed.

“I think I figured it out,” Rick said. “It’s these pills I’ve been taking. They’re for insomnia, but the doctor said they’re experimental. When I take one, somehow it brings me here.”

“Huh,” Negan sounded, “how about that. Well, whatever gets your sexy ass back here is A-okay with me. But what’s with the insomnia? You having trouble sleeping?”

Rick shrank back a bit, embarrassed. “Um, yeah…I am, I mean – I was. But I think I’m getting better now.”

Negan eyed him with a soft look of concern. “I hope it’s not me you’re losing sleep over, but if it is, don’t.”

Rick dropped his gaze, not able to deny the truth. “But…I felt really terrible after what happened and…I missed you too much,” he admitted.

“Hey, buck up, Rick. I’m doing just peachy here so don’t feel bad. And now that you got those magic beans, you won’t need to miss me anymore,” Negan stated, giving Rick a squeeze around the waist. “Just make sure you get some friggin’ sleep, alright?”

A small smile grew on Rick’s lips and he nodded, tightening his hold around the other man. “Okay,” he whispered, comforted by the idea that he now had the ability to see Negan whenever he wanted. Even if the pills were only making him have these vivid dreams, it felt real enough to make no difference.

They leaned into a kiss, full and deepening as they clung to each other. Rick felt a stirring in his gut the longer it went on, roaming his hands over Negan’s shoulders and arms. It was intoxicating, head swimming in a daze as Rick drowned himself in their kiss.

When they pulled apart, Rick was left longing for more. “Is there somewhere we can go?” he whispered, throaty and thick with urgency.

Negan understood. “There’s the management office,” he stated. “It’s got a bed in there.”

“There’s a bed in the office?” Rick blurted.

“Yeah. Beats me,” Negan shrugged. “Maybe the ghost crew here likes to take naps.”

There were no further questions. They scurried across the carnival, Negan leading Rick by the hand like a pair of giddy teenagers.

They reached the management building, a short, one-story structure that looked plain from the outside, a contrast to the glitzy glamour of its surroundings. Inside was nicer, with its modern desks and office décor, computers and telephones and filing cabinets.

And beyond the office, was a separate lounge area, a surprisingly upscale room, well-furnished setting. And just like Negan said, the room’s centerpiece was a neatly made bed.

There was no care of the oddities of it as they collapsed onto the bed, pawing and pulling at the other’s clothing. This time around, it felt hotter, uninhibited, it was here that they could completely lose their senses. They were young and dauntless with virile blood surging through their veins. Kisses were electric and every touch heated and rousing.

There was no need to hide themselves for there was no one here to hide from. Rick didn’t need to keep an ear open for a knock on the door, nor worry about Judith coming home early from school. There were no distractions, nothing to prevent them from being as loud and free as they desired, immersing themselves complete, unrestrained pleasure.

And when Rick’s climax hit it was the height of euphoria, a perfect meld of the physical and mental, grasping tight to the body above him as they rocked together in an explosive rhythm.

It was more exciting than their first time – with their younger bodies to discover and explore but with previous knowledge of the other’s likes. There was no loss of stamina as they could go again without downtime, stopping only when it seemed overboard to keep going.

Although they didn’t tire and needed no sleep, it was gratifying to huddle under the covers, nested still in each other’s arms.

Afterwards, they returned to their carnival paradise, rode the rides and played the games, ate unending food and desserts at their guiltless whim, all the while freely expressing their affections out in the open world.

And at the end, the sky began to lighten as it had before and Rick knew he would be leaving soon. He didn’t want the night to end, didn’t want to return to the drab existence he would soon wake into. But at least Rick knew how to come back.

Standing under the awning of the fun house, they settled into an embrace to relish the remaining moments, Rick’s head tucked in the crook of Negan’s neck as they swayed gently together.

“All this is some kind of miracle,” Rick commented. “If this is really real, then how is it that I can come here if I’m still alive?”

“Those pills you’re taking-,” Negan replied, “I don’t know what’s in them, but damn, they unlock some part of your noggin’ that lets you fly free as a bird. You’re taking out-of-body experiences to a whole new level, hopping from the living world into my afterlife. That’s some badass interdimensional traveling you’re doing there, Rick.”

“You think I…traveled dimensions?”

“Sure.” Negan gave an amused smile. “How else could you get here? Astral projection. I mean, your body’s laying in bed, slumbering away, but you – the _real_ you – are here with me. Of all the bazillions of universes, dimensions or whatever they’re called that are out there, mine was the one you came to, like you knew exactly where to go.”

Rick wasn’t sure what to think. It all sounded like science-fiction to his ears. But Rick smiled, looked the other man in the eyes, leaned in close until they locked in a warm, lingering kiss. He whispered, their lips still touching, “I’m just glad I found you.”

“So you’re gonna come back to visit me again?”

“Of course.”

When Rick awoke, he fought the urge to take another pill straight away so he could sleep again and return to Negan’s comforting arms. But he knew he couldn’t. He had things to do, a community to run and a child to care for.

So with great effort, Rick managed to push himself out of bed, place his feet on the floor in sluggish reluctance.

An action he would repeat for weeks.

The days were long, the nights short.

* * *

In his waking hours, Rick merely went through the motions, filled his day with inane tasks. He functioned to the best of his ability, to be a good parent to Judith and a good leader to his people. But his heart yearned for the days to end, when he could finally retire to his room, slip his weary bones into bed, and ingest a small white pill.

In his waking hours, he could feel his age in his body, every ache and discomfort. Every pop of his joints, the crick in his neck. He could see more sharply the lines in his face, the white of his beard, age spots marring his skin.

But at night, he could return to his youthful prime, invigorated with a liveliness that didn’t exist when awake. Where the night felt more real than the day.

Where he could kiss ice cream off from Negan’s lips.

Where they could make love in the ball pit.

Where they could hold hands on the Ferris wheel.

Where Rick was happier.

It was strange to think but it was true. He was falling in love with Negan, even though Negan was dead.

Dead but not gone.

They had a better, more fulfilling relationship now than before Negan was killed. In the dreamworld, or the afterlife, or whatever that place was.

Rick knew it was problematic, to be so emotionally invested in a relationship that didn’t exist in ‘reality’ - the real world, the land of the living where the laws of physics still applied. He was falling in love with someone who might only exist in the deepest recesses of his escapist mind. He could be setting himself up for a tremendous heartbreak somewhere down the road.

But Rick let himself fall anyway.

* * *

The entire perimeter of the carnival was surrounded by a wall of solid darkness. It was an odd and curious sight of absolute nothingness beyond the border, an utter mysterious abyss. It was as if you were to stand at the edge and reach a hand into the darkness, that hand would be swallowed by the void and disappear.

“Do you know what’s out there?” Rick asked as they walked along the edge, peering out into the ominous black space. “Have you ever tried to leave the carnival?”

“No,” Negan responded. “And I’m not gonna try. I’m not leaving this slice of paradise and risk getting sucked into some black hole or whatever the hell’s out there. My ass is staying right here.”

“So you’re fine with being stuck here forever? You’re not even curious to see what else could be in this world?”

“I don’t think of it as being ‘stuck’ here,” Negan answered. “As far as I’m concerned, this _is_ the world. This is it and there’s nothing else. And I’m fine and dandy with it. I’ve got plenty of shit to do here.”

Rick took one more look into the darkness. He could understand Negan’s unwillingness to venture outside the borders. The carnival was like an island floating in the middle of a vast ocean of black. There was no telling what was out there or if there was anything at all. Maybe you would get lost and never find your way back. Maybe there were monsters. Maybe you would cease to exist. It was better not to know.

As they veered off towards the next ride, Rick didn’t look back.

* * *

An Alexandrian was bitten. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

And so Rick stood among the mourners gathered at the gravesite. Heard the solemn words that Father Gabriel recited, head bent in silence. Afterwards, he relayed his sympathies to the weeping family members of the deceased as the crowd parted ways.

Rick turned to leave as well, but stopped and threw a lingering glance to the end of the graveyard. Negan’s plot was there, nondescript and unassuming, new grass growing on top of the dirt.

Rick always felt a pang of regret when he looked at Negan’s grave. How things ended the way they did. Negan deserved better, at least.  
  


“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Rick didn’t know how to say it. “I couldn’t do better for you,” he stated, staring at the ground. “That day…the day you died…”

“Hey,” Negan reminded softly, “I told you not to worry about it.”

“They didn’t want to bury you,” Rick continued, “they didn’t want to, not in Alexandria. But I buried you anyway,” he said, looking up at Negan, thinking back to that cold sleepless morning. “I had to. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t. Early in the morning, I dug the grave. Judith came to help me. We buried you together, just Judith and me. But…, but it didn’t feel right. You should’ve gotten something better than that. I should’ve given you something better…”

Rick felt an arm wrap around his shoulder as Negan pressed Rick against himself. He hadn’t realized he’d been shaking until he was flush against Negan’s chest in a solid embrace.

“It doesn’t matter, Rick,” Negan whispered into his ear. “It really doesn’t. Bodies don’t matter after they’re dead. You could’ve ground my body into mulch for all I care. What matters is that I’m _here_ , and I’m doing great. Okay?”

A few tears soaked into Negan’s shirt as Rick sucked in a breath. He managed a nod.

“Not that I don’t appreciate what you did. I do,” Negan added. “Not a lot of people even get burials anymore, not even kings. You’ve done way more for me than anyone else in that world.”

Rick lifted his head, placated by Negan’s words. But guilt still infected his conscience.

“What was it like,” Rick asked, “you know,…when you died? Was it… quick?”

“Didn’t feel a thing,” Negan confirmed. “Never saw it coming. I was just walking along, and then…nothing. Don’t even really remember it,” he elaborated. “Honestly, it was probably the best way I could’ve gone out. I always figured I’d die in some horrible fucked up way, not so quick and easy like it was.”

Rick nodded in a bit of relief, hoping that Negan wasn’t only trying to make him feel better. “But it never should have happened,” Rick then added, “not there…not under my watch…”

“Hey,” Negan soothed, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that because of some prick with a grudge. It was probably the last thing you needed, what with all the bullshit already on your plate. I don’t want to be the reason why your life is harder. I’m sorry, Rick.”

“No, no,” Rick exclaimed, stunned that Negan was apologizing to him for being murdered. “No, I mean - yeah, it was hard…and it still is, but -,” he paused, grabbed hold of Negan’s hand, warm palms pressing together, “but when I’m here, I’m okay.

“I’m okay when I’m here,” Rick repeated, “with you.”

* * *

He enjoyed tending to the horses in the barn. The smell of hay and manure didn’t bother him. It was a nice reprieve from the rest of Alexandria. The animals were good company, never picky or demanding.

As Rick poured a bucket of fresh water into a trough, he heard the sound of footsteps approach. Straightening up, he turned to see a familiar face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Michonne greeted.

“Michonne, hey, hi,” Rick responded. Michonne had been back for a while from her lastest stint at Oceanside, and Rick had hardly even noticed. “It’s okay, I’m just finishing up here.”

“Want any help?”

“I got it, but thanks.”

“Okay,” Michonne replied with a smile, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes. She almost turned to leave, but hesitated, her feet moving with her body staying in place. “Rick? Can you talk for a minute?”

Rick put down the bucket, wiped his forehead with the back of his glove in a quick motion. “Um, sure, yeah. What’s up?”

“Rick, you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

A silence followed, the question mixing in the air with all the odors of the barn. Rick nodded before too much time passed. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Then what’s wrong, Rick?” Michonne pleaded gently. “What’s been eating you?”

“What,– what do you mean?”

She took a few steps forward, narrowing the gap but still leaving plenty of space between them. “It’s just that…lately you seem, withdrawn,” Michonne said with as much empathy she could draw. “Unfocused. Like your head in is a different place. Are you feeling alright?”

Rick mentally berated himself. He didn’t think he’d been behaving too differently, but apparently he had. “I’m fine. I’m sorry if I’ve been kinda out of it. I’ve been feeling a bit tired, is all.”

“It’s more than a bit,” Michonne replied. “You hardly leave your house anymore. You only come out a few hours a day when you used to be outside from dawn until dusk. And Judith told me,” she confided, “that you go to bed early, sometimes missing dinner. And then you sleep until late in the morning or even into the afternoon. That’s not like you. She’s worried, Rick. I’m worried too.”

Rick gazed at the barn floor, the strands of hay scattered everywhere. A lump of guilt filled his throat. It was true.

“I’m sorry,” Rick rasped, not making eye contact. “I didn’t know…I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me.” Her voice was soft and urging, but he didn’t know what to say. She deserved an explanation though, one that Rick couldn’t provide.

Instead, a long stretch of silence was her answer.

“Look, Rick,” Michonne said, her tone slightly more stern. “I talked with the doctor. He said he gave you a bottle of pills to help you sleep. But he said they were found in lab, that they were…experimental. You were supposed to follow up with the doctor, but he said you never went back.

“I’m not blaming you or anything,” she continued on. “That’s not what this talk is about. I’m just worried. I think those pills…I think they may be doing you more harm than good at this point. Maybe you should stop taking them.”

Rick’s face froze in a furrow, a pang hitting him in the chest. Affronted by the way Michonne had dug so deep into his business, but understanding of her concern. Shame at being found out and fear of what she was suggesting.

“No, no, I can’t,” Rick stammered, shaking his head. “I – I still need them. They help me.”

“Rick, they’re taking you away from us, your family and friends. You don’t need those pills.”

“No, I do. You don’t understand…”

“Then help me understand. How do they help you?”

Rick swallowed a breath. There was no way he could tell her the whole truth. Not about the carnival. Not about Negan. But he didn’t want to lie, it didn’t feel right to lie.

After what seemed like ages, Rick spoke. “When I take a pill, I can sleep,” he started. “But that’s not all it does.”

“What? What else does it do?”

He licked his dry lips, inhaled a lungful of barn air. “I go somewhere,” he stated, seeing Michonne’s confusion, “I go to a place…that’s different from here.” He knew he sounded ridiculous, knew he wasn’t making sense.

“What place?”

“A good place. A safe place,” he explained. “I don’t feel tired there. There’s no pain or worry. Everything I need is there. I go to this place and I can be…myself. I can be…happy.”

He could see the worry etched on his friend’s expression as her mind sought to comprehend. Slowly, she nodded. “Dreams can be a welcome escape.”

“But it’s not a dream.”

“What?”

At the risk of sounding crazy, Rick repeated, “It’s not a dream. This place… It’s real.”

Even standing in the shade, the whites of Michonne’s eyes stood out in stark contrast. “You mean, it _feels_ real?”

Rick corrected her. “No. It _is_ real. I can’t explain it, exactly how I get there, or why it happens. But it’s true.” He could see the gears crunching in Michonne’s head, imagine the thoughts going through her mind. But he couldn’t deny it. “It’s real.”

“Rick - ,” she voiced, “I think I get it now. It’s the stress of everything. You’ve been leading for so long, it’s wearing on you. So much responsibility, so much work for one person. Add in taking care of Judith…I don’t blame you for wanting to sleep it all away. You need an escape, and that’s what the pills do for you. I know it feels real, these dreams you have…but that’s all they are – just dreams.”

“They’re not just-”

“They _are_ ,” Michonne stated. “Those pills give you vivid dreams, but they’re not real. But what _is_ real, are all of us here who love you. This community, your friends. Me. Judith. We’re real, and we need you. We need you with us.”

Rick’s eyes burned with the beginnings of tears. He felt deflated. Torn.

She was right. He’d been pulling away, spent less time with friends. Spent less time with his own daughter. He’d been sleeping longer and longer with each passing day. But she was wrong on one thing – they weren’t dreams.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better,” Rick choked out. “I promise I’ll do better.”

Michonne smiled gently, nodded her appreciation. “If you need any help, I’m here. We’re all here for you. If you need a break, just say so. You don’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

“Okay,” Rick replied. “Thank you.”

“Rick,” Michonne then added, “why don’t you give me the pills? You know, for safekeeping.”

At this, Rick froze. “No, I still need them,” he blurted.

“They aren’t good for you. You’re taking too many…”

“I won’t take so many,” Rick swore. “I promise. I’ll only take them when I really need it. Please…”

Michonne was about to argue, started to say something else, but the look on Rick’s face must have been tragic, because Michonne backed down, decided not to push the issue. “Okay,” she said instead. “Okay.”

* * *

It was days before he visited Negan again. Each day without taking a pill was like a small torture.

“I can’t come here as often anymore,” Rick said to Negan, full of regret. “People are noticing…they notice that I sleep too much. And Michonne, she knows that I take the pills. She wanted me to hand them over. So I promised her I wouldn’t use them so much. I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Hey now, don’t be sorry,” Negan said. “So we see each other a tad less than before. Makes the heart fonder, right?”

Negan’s boyish smile never failed to make Rick’s heart flutter. Rick nodded, returned a small smile of his own.

“It might be good for you anyway,” Negan added. “You still got a life to live. You should live it, not spend all your time here with a deadbeat.”

“But I just miss you so much when I’m not here.”

They locked eyes, blue and hazel melding. “I miss you too,” Negan confessed, “I miss you like the dickens when you’re away. But as long as I know you’ll be back, I’m good.”

It warmed Rick to know that Negan missed him just as much but there was an underlying sadness with that knowledge. Whereas among the living, he had the company of a whole community, but Negan’s sole existence here tugged at Rick.

“Do you get lonely here, all by yourself?”

“Not really, I got lots to distract me,” Negan answered, “rides, food, haunted house…”

“Yeah, but once you’ve done them a thousand times, don’t they get boring?”

“You know, oddly enough, no.” Rick looked unconvinced at that. Negan slid closer together on the bench where they sat, until their sides were touching. “Before you got here, I must’ve done everything around here a thousand times already. The shine never dulls. Every time I ride that coaster, it’s just as good as the first time. Of course, it’s the best when I’m riding it with you.”

“So, you’ll be okay if I’m gone for a week at a time?” Rick asked. “Or, even a few weeks?”

“Rick, you worry too much about me,” Negan replied. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. You focus on taking care of yourself and that angel of yours.”

* * *

He worked. He gardened. He tended to the horses.

Rick did his best to settle back into a regular schedule, to go to bed at an appropriate time, to wake at an appropriate time.

He didn’t need the pills to sleep. But he still needed them.

He led the town meetings. He took inventory of the pantry. He cooked dinner.

Every night Rick would look over at the nightstand, at the opaque medicine bottle that sat beside the clock and lamp. Just looking. And thinking, _maybe tomorrow_.

The days would pass, and eventually the itch would become a rash too large not to scratch.

It was pure relief when Rick finally swallowed that pill, like taking a life-saving sip of water down a parched, dry throat. And when he laid his head on the pillow, closed his heavy eyes, he prayed for sleep to take him, to whisk him away to another place.

* * *

At the center of the carnival was a large willow tree, the only tree on the main grounds. Its long, leafy tendrils cascaded down, hanging perfectly still in the breezeless night.

Under the tree was a bench, constructed of iron and wood, for carnival goers to rest. It was nothing special, but it was a favorite spot for Rick and Negan to share an ice cream sundae, to gaze out into the starry sky, or to simply sit and talk.

“What happens to other people when they die?” Rick mused aloud one time. “Do they all go to a place like this?”

Negan answered as if he’d thought a lot about it. “I think everyone goes _somewhere._ I mean, think about all the afterlives there must be - there’s gotta be a shopping mall world, a casino world…maybe some of them are way bigger, like an entire country. And others are super tiny, like just the inside of a phone booth. I’m so glad I didn’t end up in friggin’ phone booth world. Damn, that would suck.”

Rick chuckled and looked out into the never-ending night, pondered his own existence in this fantastical realm. There was so much that was unknown, and perhaps no one was ever meant to know the answers.

“What happens here when I leave?” Rick asked next. “The sky – it gets brighter and I wake up just before the sun rises. Does the sun ever come up?”

“No, it never does,” Negan answered. “It sounds funny, but when you leave, the sky turns dark again – like _that_ ,” he said, snapping his fingers.

“Huh, that’s strange.”

Negan shrugged. “Just one of the many mysteries of the universe.”

* * *

It was hard to stay away. He would make it through a day, and then another day. He would manage to make it through a week, a week and a half. He could stay away longer when things were going well in his real-world life.

But when the stress came, when problems arose – and they always did – Rick found himself taking those pills earlier than intended. He needed to see Negan, to talk to him, to have Negan soothe his tensions and assure him that everything would be fine.

Negan was his sounding board, his confidant, just like in the months before his death.

Rick could also share the good things. He talked about Judith, how fast she was growing, what she had gotten Rick for Father’s Day. How he had finally caught the gopher that was eating the crops. How beautiful the sunset was the other day and how he wished Negan was there with him to see it.

And whenever it was time for Rick to wake, he’d be on the verge of tears. Sitting on their bench or lying in bed, watching the sky grow lighter, they’d say a wistful goodbye, not sure when they would next meet.

* * *

A steady rain pattered outside the window. The glow of an oil lamp cast flickering shadows that danced across the bedroom walls.

Rick laid tucked in his bed, head half buried in the pillow, intending to drift off into a natural sleep tonight. His eyes drifted over to the nightstand, at the medicine bottle within an arm’s reach. Even just the sight of it was a small comfort, like Negan was always near, would always be available if Rick was in need.

But then a terrible thought occurred to Rick, jarring him from his relaxed state. He bolted upright, snatching the pill bottle off the stand.

A sense of dread overcame him as he held the bottle in his hand.

It felt light.

Twisting off the cap, he peered inside.

There were only two pills left.

Rick’s throat tightened, unable to breathe as his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. A dizzying sickness took over. It felt like his world was unravelling and caving in, collapsing onto itself, like he was having a panic attack.

_There were only two pills left._

How could he have been this dense? How could he have never thought to check how many pills he had left?

And now there were two left. He would only get to see Negan two more times. Their time together was coming to a permanent end.

Rick broke down, cursing himself for his own stupidity, for taking so many pills back in the beginning, mindless and without thought of consequences.

No amount of rain falling outside could match the torrent of tears Rick shed that night.


End file.
